


Sleep to Dream

by LillyMGreen



Category: Baldur's Gate
Genre: F/M, Keldorn Romance Mod
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-20
Updated: 2013-08-20
Packaged: 2017-12-24 03:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/934506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LillyMGreen/pseuds/LillyMGreen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When his twenty year marriage falls apart, Keldorn returns to the one place he still feels needed, to the Child of Bhaal he made a promise to aid.</p><p>A vignette inspired by Berelinde's gorgeous Keldorn romance.</p><p>The detail in this is slightly different to the mod but it was inspired by her idea of how a romance could start so I'd suggest this is spoiler-ish rather than out-and-out spoiler-y.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleep to Dream

“Keldorn?” she says, almost but not entirely certain the grey head she sees poking over the top of the armchair by the common room fire belongs to the knight.  On hearing her voice the man turns to look at her, a smile crosses his features but there is a sadness in his grey eyes he cannot hide.  He turns his attention back to the fire.

“Drinking alone?” she asks with a nod at the untouched tankard of ale that sits before him.  The question makes him uncomfortable she sees; perhaps this isn’t the first time?

“No, I... it did not seem appropriate to sit here empty handed with paying customers about.”

“We are paying customers,” she tells him, taking a seat in the chair beside him, “through the nose I might add; though I see your point.”  Even at this late hour, coveted spots by the fireside are much sought after and it is likely only the ale and his dour demeanour keeping the other patrons at a distance.  

He pushes the warm ale in her direction.

“No, thanks.”  She shakes her head and catches the eye of a serving girl across the room.  “You’re the last person I expected to see here; Valygar certainly, Jaheira perhaps.”

“I could not sleep,” he answers flatly.  She wonders then how many nights since his return he has spent staring up at the ceiling or the canvas, praying for blessed rest.

“What’ll it be, milady?” the half-elven serving girl asks with a smile that’s genuine.  It’s a pretty smile, if a little crooked, set in a face just as pretty; too lovely for a place like this, truth be told.

“Hot chocolate, in the biggest bowl you have, and brandy, please," she says, returning the smile.

“And for the gentleman?”

Keldorn begins to say he doesn’t want anything more but she cuts him off.

“He’ll have the same.  Put it on our tab, and take one for yourself,” she tells the girl and they share a look that’s positively conspiratory and perhaps a little flirtatious before she’s gone to fulfill the order.

They sit in silence and the weight of what troubles Keldorn hangs heavy between them.

“You could not sleep either?” he asks eventually, not taking his eyes off the fire.

“It’s a long time since I have slept a night through without the aid of potions or draughts, and I hate taking those things,” she tells him with a grimace.  “At least with this,” she adds, taking a bowl of steaming chocolate from the serving girl who is right on cue, “if it does not send me to sleep I’ll have had some pleasure from it.”  She takes a huge mouthful of the rich liquid, instantly regretting it.  “Ow! H- hot!” she yelps, fanning her scolded lips.  The serving girl stifles a giggle and pours her a cup of water from the jug on her tray, which she gulps down gratefully.

“Will that be all, milady?”

“Aye, for now, and call me Merin, I’m no lady, the knight here can attest to that,” she says, glancing at Keldorn; normally this particular line in self deprecation has him jumping to her defence with assurances she’s more of a lady than many members of Amn’s nobility but on this occasion he offers little more than a murmur of agreement.    

“Flyck," the girl replies and she offers her hand.

“Thank you, Flyck,” Merin says, giving the proffered hand a gentle squeeze, and then the girl is gone again, her attentions drawn by a large group with a big order to place.

“You are too impulsive for your own good sometimes,”  Keldorn tells her, but his chiding is only half-hearted, much like everything else about him these days.  He is still focused when it comes to a fight, but most of his time appears to be spent in an introspective haze the rest of the world is unable to penetrate.  

Merin sips more delicately at the chocolate and smiles at stirred memories: Imoen, and Candlekeep, and the cosy nook by the kitchen fire where they would sit and exchange the day's stories and plan adventures for the next, and Gorion's feigned exasperation at having to come and find them every night and “shoo” them both off to bed when they all knew it provided him with the perfect excuse for an ale and a chat with his old friend Winthrop.   

But then the memory changes: a dark and rainwashed road away from Candlekeep, and Gorion's cold and lifeless form, and a dark and dirty cage, and pain, and her bright and funny friend speaking distractedly of knives and death and a man inside her head.  And the sorrow of what is lost to her and the fear of what she might still lose momentarily threatens to overwhelm her and she takes another swallow of the bitter-sweet liquid to disguise having to choke down the lump in her throat.  And then through her own abstraction she realises he’s watching her intently, seeing beyond himself for the first time in a long time.  

“Imoen," she answers in reply to a question he has no need to ask.

“Maria,” he responds, then, “I am sorry, Merin, you have enough to contend with without an old man burdening you with his domestic disharmony.  I should not have returned, but I had nowhere left to go.”  He has the decency to look immediately contrite for this last remark but it isn’t enough to stop her own ill considered response falling from her lips.  

“Aye, folks with better places to be don’t tend to spend much time with the tainted spawn of murderous deities; unless there’s something in it for them.”

To his credit, Keldorn says nothing but the look he gives her is pointed.  

“Oh gods,” she says, throwing her head back and pressing the heels of her palms to her eyes, “when did I become so jaded?  I didn’t mean that.  I would never have come this far without any of you, and your problems are no burden, Keldorn, our situations may be different but I understand all too well how you feel.”

“You are right, my friend, our situations are different.  All that has happened to you has been down to circumstances beyond your control, my situation, however, is entirely of my own making.  In following my calling I forsook an equally important part of my life; neglected it, thinking it a perennial I needed only to give occasional care to to make it flourish, yet it was not so hardy as I thought and it withered and died.”

His metaphor is worthy of Jaheira but Merin senses now is not the time for a smart remark, or to tell him that new seeds are planted every day, new shoots grow and can flourish, given the right conditions.  “Keldorn, you tried to put things right; don’t forget that.  Do not forget, also, that your calling was a part of who you were when you and Maria first met and it continues to be so.  You may have been absent but she knew that would be the case from the outset.  She and your daughters have been well provided for in all that time and you never stopped loving them.  You never stopped loving her.  It was she who put distance between you both.  It was she who was unfaithful.”

“Oh, Merin, if only her indiscretion with Sir William were the only issue; as you know I forgave her that and we had begun to work through it, or so I believed.  Nay, all the things I admired about her, all the things that made me believe our union would work: her fierce independence, her strength, her rebellious streak...” he pauses, apparently caught unawares by a memory and Merin looks away to give him chance to regain his composure.  “They all turned out to be the very things which tore it apart.  I left her and the children alone so long they no longer had need of me.”

“Keldorn, I...” Merin shakes her head, “never mind.”

“Tell me your thoughts, my friend, you have been kind enough to listen to mine.”

Merin puffs out her cheeks and exhales in a long breath before replying.  “She wasn’t so independent, Keldorn.  She had need of someone to fulfill your role, or were Sir William’s claims of being a husband to your wife and a father to your children merely to placate you?”

When Keldorn doesn’t reply, Mernin fears she has angered him, but as he takes a deep draught of the chocolate she insisted on ordering for him his face assumes the expression of one who has had the blinkers lifted from his eyes.  “I have not had hot chocolate since the girls were little.”

Merin raises an eyebrow but doesn’t interrupt.

“We made the trip to Esmeltaran one summer, taking a beautiful villa on the banks of the lake.  We made good time on our journey, arriving a day early on an unseasonably cool evening.  We were not expected until the next day so the house was cold and there were few fresh provisions in the larder.  The girls were tired, but so excited at the prospect of spending their days at the beach and so desperate to feel the sand between their toes they just could not sleep.  They begged and pleaded for the Lady Maria and I to take them to the shoreline, and realising it might be the only way to get them to settle we eventually relented.  After the girls had run themselves ragged we built a fire to stave off the chill in the air and gathered around it.  Amongst the things that were in the larder, Maria found a block of dark Maztican chocolate so we broke it up and melted it over the fire with the milk we had brought and shared it beneath the stars, where the girls fell asleep in our arms.  After we carried them back to the house and settled them in their beds we returned to the embers of the fire and we...well we...”

Merlin smiles as she sees his ears turn pink.  “It’s fine, Keldorn, you don’t need to go into detail; I can imagine.”  And imagine she could, which was half the trouble.  She hadn't always felt like this.  When he first joined them she appreciated him for his willingness to support her cause, his usefulness in a fight and his general steadying influence; Merin could be described as many things but calm was not one of them.  She also liked that, in him, Aerie had found someone else she could go to with her questions and her fears; as much as Merin adored the Avariel she didn't always have all the answers for her, she barely had answers for herself most of the time.  Then one night, in the midst of the usual assortment of disjointed, hellish dreams that would invariably drive her from sleep in a cold sweat, her mind conjured an altogether more pleasurable experience, the kind of dream that lingers with a physical warmth after you wake.  Initially she wasn't certain it was Keldorn she had dreamed of - at least she tried to convince herself it wasn't him - but when she eventually rose from her bedroll to join the others for morningfeast, he had looked up from where he sat by the fire stirring the pot of porridge and the sight of his gentle grey eyes left her in no doubt.  Merin was not normally backward in coming forward and a dream such as the one she experienced was usually the precursor to a round of shameless flirting; and on occasion something more, but as he looked at her with his steady gaze and smiled a "Good Morning" she felt her face flush with a heat entirely unrelated to the campfire.  Where before she was very much at ease around Keldorn, suddenly she felt awkward and foolish; that was the moment she realised what she felt for him ran deeper than pure physicality, and she hadn't even realised it ran to that.  Whilst she eventually overcame her awkwardness - she had to as even Keldorn noticed she was no longer her usual demonstrative self around him and began questioning her about her wellbeing, fearing she might be ailing for something, and his concerned attentions only made matters worse - the dream had awakened emotions in her she was unable to simply ignore and when he eventually left them to be with his wife and children, though she knew it was for the best, her heart quietly broke for what she would never know.  Or so she had believed, until little more than a tenday later when they stumbled, filthy and exhausted, through the door of _The Five Flagons_ to discover him sat at the far end of the bar staring into the depths of a mug of ale much as she had found him this evening...

~xXx~

“How long?” she and Jaheira had quietly enquired of the innkeeper whilst the others greeted the knight on their way to get cleaned up.

“Too bloody long,” came the reply from Samuel Thunderburp, “‘E’s bin scarin’ off all me punters with that long face an’ ‘e’s spent precious little to make up fer it.”

“Come off it!” Merin replied with a laugh, “it’s your prices scaring the punters off.”

“Aye, well, you’ll be puttin’ on a performance this evenin’ to rectify the slump in me takins I ’ope.”

Merin grinned.  “Only if you’ll shout us some hot grub and some cool grog.  I’m famished, and so parched I doubt I could even sing a note.” she said, with a wink.  “Do that and not only will I put on a show, I’ll do something about our friend in the corner too.”

“Done,” he replied, shaking her by the hand, “though I can’t ‘elp feelin’ as I ‘ave bin ‘mount of food an’ booze you lot can get through.”

“Oh, Burpie!” Merin laughed, and reaching over the bar she gave the barkeep’s head an affectionate rub before whipping a bottle of what she hoped was something refreshing from a shelf beside him.   “I suppose we ought to find out what he’s doing here," she suggested to Jaheira as she glanced across the bar and finally caught the knight’s eye.

“I don’t think it needs two of us.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you want to-”

“No, no, child, I was simply going to suggest you should be the one to speak to him, afterall you know more of what happened with Lady Maria than I.”

“You think this is about his wife?”  

“I would put coin on this being about his wife.”

“How can you be so sure?  He might have had bad news about a comrade from The Order.”  Merin asked, hoping her tone didn’t betray the perverse hope she felt at the druid’s assertion.   

“Child, for one who gives the impression of being so worldly in affairs of the heart you can be so naive.  Over the years I have seen many men look as he does right now and I can say with some confidence men do not look that way over aught else but a woman.”

Merin laughed.  “My childlike innocence is why you love me, Jae.  Anyway, there’s only one way to find out for sure.”

Jaheira offered Keldorn her own quick greeting before taking her leave of them.  “I’ll see you downstairs in a little while,” she said, giving Merin a look which said: _”where I’ll want the full story.”_

“So,” Merin hopped onto a stool beside him and popped the stopper of the bottle she’d snatched, which thankfully turned out to be _Purple Hill_ cider.  She reached over the bar again, grabbed a mug and poured herself a measure; Samuel rolled his eyes in exasperation.  “It's good to see you, my friend, but I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon, or so alone.”

“My marriage is over, Merin.” Keldorn replied starkly, his head down, his hands pressed flat to the bar top.

For all Jaheira had insinuated, Mernin still hadn’t expected that.  “What?  When?” she asked, utterly stunned.

“A couple of days since.”

"May I ask why?"

He had looked at her properly then and Merin didn't think she had ever seen anyone look more broken.  "I do not know," he answered quietly.

Merin felt her heart break for him all over again.  “And you’ve been staying here since then?”

“No, _The Seven Veils._  I slept at Order Headquarters on the night I left the estate but as word of what happened got round the scrutiny became too much.  Staying at _The Mythrest_ was out of the question and _The Coronet_ did not hold much appeal.”

“I can understand that, even with Hendak in charge the clientele hasn’t improved much.  But _The Seven Veils_ is right across town, what brings you here?"

“I- I do not know.  I have just been walking all day, trying to make sense of it.  I...”

The words died on his lips and Merin reached out and placed her hand over his.  “As you are here, will you take supper with us?”

“I do not feel like eating.”

Merin didn’t push the point.  “At least stay for the show?  I promise to steer clear of maudlin balladry.”

Keldorn furnished her with a sad half-smile.  “No, I should go, as you say, _The Seven Veils_ is a long walk.”

“Keldorn, there is always a place for you here.  There is always a place for you with us,” she told him in response to the question she saw he couldn’t find the words to ask.

He looked down to where her small hand still covered his much larger one and placed his other hand over the top of hers.  “Thank you.”

“Good.  So you’ll stay here this evening and we’ll go and retrieve your stuff from across town in the morning.  We have to make a visit to _Waukeen’s Promenade_ for supplies anyway-”

“No,”  Keldorn gently patted her hand.

“No? But-”

“I am not good company this evening.  I had not even expected to see you here today, I heard you had gone out of town, but so much of Athkatla reminds me of Maria and I just wanted to be somewhere other memories might stop me from dwelling.”

Something in Keldorn’s voice told Merin his explanation was only a half truth but she kept her suspicions to herself.  “And did it help?”

He shook his head.  “I will return to _The Seven Veils_ tonight and join you again in the morning, I am unsure I will make for better company then but I would be glad to assist in obtaining provisions.”

Merin smiled at how readily Keldorn had seized upon the opportunity to be of use.

He stood up slowly as he drank down the dregs of his ale.  

Merin stood too and “Welcome back,” was all she could think to say.  She moved to hug him but remembering how grubby she was she stepped back and offered her hand instead, which he took and ignoring the road grime that covered her used to pull her close enough to kiss her on her forehead.  “Thank you, my friend,” he murmured.

“Take care out there,” Merin cautioned him as she watched him go.

As they sat down to supper, Merin told Jaheira she had had the right of it.

“And?” the druid asked.

“And that’s all I know.”

“And where is he now?”

“Staying at _The Seven Veils_ , but he’ll be joining us again tomorrow.”

“He asked to come back, did he?”

“Not directly.  I could sense it was what he wanted though, and I didn’t think it fair to make him beg.”

“If you think it for the best.”

“I do."

Early the next morning she took Valygar - who could be most relied upon not to ask too many questions - to collect the extensive list of provisions they had put together and a man she had never thought could appear so lost.

~xXx~

Keldorn is quiet for a while but glancing sidelong at him, Merin sees his Adam’s Apple quiver as he swallows hard.  Eventually he tries to speak but at first his voice betrays him.  “The...the thing of it is, when I reminded her about that time by the lake she did not remember it as I do.  She spoke of mosquito bites, and children with sunstroke and sand where sand should not be and she asked me why I would want to recapture any of that  I realised then she no longer felt for me as I did for her.”

Merin isn’t sure what to tell him.  Ever since his return she has quietly harboured a suspicion his reconciliation with Lady Maria wasn’t all it appeared to begin with, but she knows it’ll do no good to share it with him so all she can say is what she always does.  "I know all this is hard to get your head around, Keldorn, and I am only sorry I don’t have a spell which will take away all the hurt and confusion you’re feeling, the gods know if I did it would probably be my most used one, but I can tell you it does lessen and I stand by what I said when you first returned, I am here for you.”

"And you have been more patient with me than I have any right to expect," he says, turning to face her properly.  "I am no stranger to loss, Merin, but this?  Each night I pray the new day will bring a new outlook but if anything each morning dawns bleaker than the last."

“Oh, Keldorn," Merin gets out of her seat, perches herself on the edge of the table in front of him and takes his hands in hers.  "Have faith, I promise you it won't always be like this, that day will come, even if it takes a tenday, or a month, or a year.  And it comes differently to everyone, maybe you won't just wake up one morning to a realisation, maybe it'll be more gradual.  For me it came from looking around at what I still had, and having good friends like you around me I could share my memories with, and slowly the reminders became comforting instead of painful.  I still miss Gorion, and Khalid and Dynaheir every single day, there are still empty spaces in my heart where they lived but those places don't feel so dark any more; like when you open up the drapes in a room you haven't used for a while."

Keldorn smiles the sad half-smile Merin has become so accustomed to of late.  “A pretty thought, but they were people who loved you dearly, who died trying to keep you safe, they did not reject you or try to pretend the last twenty years never happened.”

Merin lets go of his hands, feeling a flare of anger spark in the pit of her stomach.  She gives him a dark look  “If the last twenty years of my life had never happened the man who was a father to me in all the ways that mattered would still be alive.  And my _best_ friend would not be languishing in a gaol somewhere,” she tells him, doing nothing to temper the sharp note in her voice.  

“Merin, I am sor-”

“Save it,” she says, sounding more weary than angry, reflex apologies are no good to her; they're treading old ground, again. “It’s late, I think I ought to go back to bed.”  She drains her cup - which tastes more bitter than sweet now it's cooled - and knocks back the brandy tot.  "Goodnight, then."

"Merin," he says her name once more.

As she stands to leave, Merin looks down at him and rests a hand on his shoulder; a rush of sympathy almost stops her in her tracks but she knows she can't keep letting him off the hook, it's no good for either of them.  "Maybe tomorrow."

The pretty serving girl named Flyck catches her just as she's about to climb the stairs.  “Milady,” she says, placing a hand on Merin’s upper arm in a distorted mirror of her conciliatory gesture to Keldorn; it’s overly familiar but Merin finds it strangely comforting. “Would you know if yon knight is after a bit of company this eve?” she asks.

Merin looks over to where Sir Keldorn still sits by the fireside, nursing the brandy she had ordered him.  She takes a deep breath and slowly shakes her head.  “No, I don’t think so, not tonight.”

"And you?” Flyck asks with a suggestive quirk of her soft pink lips.

Merin considers the offer for a moment, knowing the likelihood of getting a good night’s sleep is slim at best, and Flyck does have a very pretty smile, but paying for company is not something she’s ever been inclined to do and she isn’t about to start now.  "Some other time, perhaps.  You might do something else for me though?  I'll make it worth you while, of course."

"Aye, alright."

"Keep an eye on my friend there, make sure he doesn't drink too much more, or do something he'll regret."

"Like me?" she asks with a particularly saucy grin.

Merin chuckles.  "I doubt anyone in their right mind would regret you, let's just say he isn't in his right mind right now."

"Oh?" the girl replies with an expectant tone but there are some tales even bards don’t share.

“Oh, indeed.”  Merin presses some coin into serving girl’s hand.

“This is too much, Mila- Merin,” Flick says, looking down at the money in her hand.

“Nonsense.  I know what I’m asking.  It’s only right you are adequately compensated.”

Flyck nods slowly.

“Goodnight.”

“G’night, Milady.”

As she reaches the top of the stairs, Merin can’t resist one last glance over her shoulder.  She sees Flyck whisper something to another of the girls before looking at her and winking.  Keldorn hasn’t moved, except perhaps to slip further down into his seat; she can no longer see his head but his legs are stretched out in front of him, his hand still cradles the brandy glass.

~xXx~

Keldorn isn’t sure how long it’s been since Merin left him alone again but turning away from the fire he sees the patrons in bar have dwindled to a handful and the candles and lamps dotted about the room have burned down to almost nothing; a subtle hint that if you’re not in your bed you should be.  No one has been by to clear the table and the serving girls are nowhere to be seen; he'd have a hard time getting another drink even if he did want one.  He props his elbow on his knee and rests his forehead against his hand; he feels bone weary, he thinks he could sleep for a tenday if only his mind would let him.  He closes his eyes.

"You can't sleep here, Sir."  It's the serving girl Merin was flirting with.  Flirting is what Merin does, it seems as natural as breathing for her, a facet of the easy charm that draws people to her and has them mesmerised.  

"Uh, oh, I wasn't I..." He stops, wondering why he feels the need to explain himself.

"Aye, well p'raps you ought to take yerself off to bed before I have to, unless you _want_ me to o' course?"  The look on her face leaves Keldorn in no doubt as to what she means and he feels himself flush.  He doesn't know why, as pretty as the girl so obviously is he's not in the least bit interested, besides he's never paid for company and he's not about to start now no matter how lonely he feels.   _"And whose fault is that?"_ he silently asks himself.  The one person whose company he wouldn't mind right now is - _hopefully_ \- sleeping.  He doesn't blame Merin for leaving when she did or for not accepting his apology; what he said was at best thoughtless and he was sorry as soon as he said it, but if he's honest it's just one of a number of thoughtless and dismissive things he's told her recently and saying sorry there and then would have been more about making himself feel better about it than actually making amends.  He gets to his feet and his knees groan in protest, feeling every one of his forty hard fought winters.   _"Retirement might have been a blessing,"_ he thinks ruefully.

"So you didn't want any company then?" the girl asks.

"No, thank you."

"Pity, chivalrous men are so hard to come by, especially as fine a specimen as yerself."

"My lady, you flatter me I am sure," he replies stretching his legs, it's been a good while since anyone has referred to him as fine and he doesn't feel particularly chivalrous.  "Good night to you."

"G'night, Sir" Flyck says, not bothering to tell him he's just given her the easiest tendays' pay she's ever earned.  

Keldorn has to pass Merin's room to get to his own and he pauses when he hears a sound like a sob coming from within.   _"Am I the cause of that?"_  He can make out words, soft and anguished; another night-terror, he realises, and somehow that makes it worse.

"No, _please_ , no more!  It- it hurts.  What do you want from me?" she weeps.

He reaches out a hand to grab the door handle, stopping short as the tips of his fingers skim the wood smoothed by the touch of a thousand different occupants.  As much as he wants go to her he knows it's entirely inappropriate; besides, the door is most probably locked and warded.  Walking away is a wrench.  He's seen some of the scars she bears from this time in her life that still infests her dreams, they are unlike any of his own scars - a patchwork record of skirmishes and running battles with men and monsters alike - they are altogether more deliberate, calculating, each a single stitch in a tapestry of pain; wrought with an artist's hand they might have been beautiful were it not for the medium and intent with which they were created.  When he first glimpsed them he hadn't realised their significance and innocently enquired how she came to have them, when she told him he was repulsed, sickened to the pit of his stomach that anyone could be so cruel.  And yet, vengeance isn't what drives Merin on, seeing her friend safe seems the only thing that matters to her and for that and many other reasons she has his continued loyalty and admiration.  

Telling her he had nowhere else to go was clumsy when what he really wanted to say was that he couldn't think of anywhere else he would rather be, and as he settles into a comfortable bed Merin insists on - _"Gorion always said: 'A well rested mind is a focused mind,' and the gods know I need all the help I can get!  So you'll each have your own space and the best we can afford.  No arguments"_ \- rests his head on the down pillow and closes his eyes, for the first time in twenty years It isn't Maria he's thinking of as sleep finally claims him.

~xXx~

Exiting the tent, Keldorn sees Merin silhouetted between Selune and the firelight.  She sits cross-legged on the ground, one elbow propped on a tree stump, her head rested on her hand and her bow across her lap.  The light from the flames dances up her back, picking out each wave of her thick auburn hair with a warm orange glow.  She stifles a yawn as he sits down beside her.

"You really should have let us split your watch."

"I'd rather look at the stars than spend one more moment staring at the canvas, thanks, anyway I thought the next watch was Jaheira's?" she enquires quietly.

"It was, I swapped mine with her, I wanted to talk to you.  To apologise."

"It's forgotten."

"No, it isn't, well for you perhaps." It was true, that morning she greeted him in the same cheery way she always did, didn't ignore him and included him in the general conversation, but he couldn't help noticing she managed to avoid being alone with him, directing her attentions elsewhere whenever he attempted to speak privately, which was unusual as he usually had her ear.  "I know what you were trying to say last night-"

"Keldorn, really, you don't need to-"

"Aye," he says, taking her hand in his, "I do.  After you left I thought about what you said and it helped.  I realise now there is no way I'll get back what I had with Maria, in truth that was lost to me a long time ago, but maybe I can still be a father to my daughters in some way, though I have no idea how, when I saw them last, Leona told me she hated me and I am a virtual stranger to Vesper," he tells her sadly.

Merin leans in and hugs Keldorn fiercely and though somewhat startled he settles into the embrace, resting his chin on the top of her head where she's laid it against his chest; he needs this, he realises.  She's warm from the fire but he's concerned by how insubstantial she is, he's heard Jaheira mention she's lost weight and Merin tell her not to fuss but he thinks the druid may be right to worry.  "If you want it enough you'll find a way," she reassures him, "perhaps you could write, and when we return to Athkatla you could try to arrange a visit.  I know you've agreed to aid me but you know I'll do all I can to help and if that means you need more time then so be it."

"Thank you, my friend.  Aye, I'll do that, I just hope Maria will not make it difficult for me to see the girls."

"Would she do that?"

He shrugs. "Who can say?  Time was I thought I knew what Maria would and would never do, now..."

"I'm sorry, Keldorn."

He chuckles softly.  "'Tis I who is meant to be doing the apologising here.  Merin, what I've said to you of late, if It has hurt or offended you I am sorry.  I am so used to being the voice of experience, of authority, the one giving the advice, I have found it hard to accept that anyone else could have enough experience to know what I am feeling and what might be best for me."

"Believe me, I wish I didn't have the first idea."

"I know."

Merin shifts to a more comfortable position beside him and rests her head against his arm but doesn't seem inclined to break the contact and Keldorn is glad.  He drapes an arm loosely around her shoulders and they sit in companionable silence for a while until notices a slowing in her breathing and looks down to see she's fallen asleep.

Keldorn smiles.  "Sweet dreams, my friend," he says.

~xXx~


End file.
